


Paradigm Shift

by Karios



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Background Character Death, Developing Friendships, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Sam Ford Lives, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: Newly-widowed single mom Maggie builds a new life for her and Sam.
Relationships: Maggie Collins & Jim Sterling, Maggie Collins & Sam Ford, Maggie Collins & Team Leverage
Comments: 32
Kudos: 105
Collections: Gen Freeform Exchange2020





	Paradigm Shift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fencesit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencesit/gifts).



> Who requested an AU in which Nate died, Sam lived, and Maggie brings Team Leverage together.
> 
> I had an absolute blast tackling this incredible prompt. I loved your letter and sincerely hope this does justice to your concept.

Maggie looked up from the file James had handed her shaking with barely contained anger. “What the hell are you trying to tell me?”

"Come on, Maggie. It's all there. Nathan died because I. Y. S. didn't pay out."

Maggie blinked a couple of times as though the text in front of her eyes might shift to form something less ridiculous, less damning. A stack of claims denials' all from I. Y. S. Each one denied families the resources they needed to save their businesses, their homes, or their very lives, followed by the most damning piece of all: a single memo encouraging this kind of inaction. 

It didn't say that outright. Of course it couldn't, but the emphases on caution and thoroughness were clear enough. 

Maggie had wondered why I. Y. S. hadn't seemed to do more for someone they considered a best employee. Nathan had personally ranted about how his demise was all their fault, but back then it was too easy to dismiss what he was saying as the ramblings of a dying mind. She'd had other things to do, her mind reminded her with a hint of bitterness.

“I didn't give this to you so you could blame yourself,” James's voice cut sharply into her thoughts. “It's policy, Maggie. They're using red tape and the need for further research to justify letting people's lives' fall apart, as long as they don't have to pay.”

“I can read,” she said, though Maggie secretly appreciated his cutting through the mass of information to confirm what she thought she was seeing.

* * *

James had given her the file more than a month ago. And so far Maggie had lodged it at the bottom of her dresser drawer (the one full of frilly bits that she hadn't needn't since Nathan had been sick and wouldn't need again anytime soon) which hopefully insured Sam would never find it. Then she tried to forget about it. Work, work she loved and excelled at, would fill the gaping hole in her life. It simply had to. 

James was disappointed in her, the first time work brought her back to I. Y. S. Hypocritical of him really, given that he too was still working there. Working for them. He cornered her by the coffee machines and glared. “What are you still doing here?”

“Consulting. It keeps my son fed, my bills paid, a roof over our heads. I could ask you the same thing, you know.”

James shrugged. “I fit in well with self-serving backstabbers, really.” Maggie ignored that potential conversational minefield, instead stepping around James to reach the creamer.

She poured a generous amount of the off-white liquid in her cup and refused to meet James’s eyes. “The insurance world is small. How would I explain why I'm not taking contracts from one of the biggest clients with an office nearby?”

She didn't think it was possible, but James managed to look even more disappointed with her. “I didn't give you that folder so you could get a better job, Maggie.”

She wanted to ask what that meant, but before she could, James sighed and walked away.

James’s cruel water cooler pep talk was largely unnecessary. Maggie stumbled painfully through that case and the next before she could admit the truth to herself. I. Y. S. had purposely abandoned them and declared Nathan disposable, and it was haunting her. The knowledge that the greedy monsters who destroyed her family continued to benefit from her efforts destroyed the win in a successful recovery. The worst part was that her disillusionment was spreading beyond cases that had I. Y. S. on board. Suddenly she could only see the greediest of intentions in everyone.

That was how she found herself racing home during a lunch break, and casting aside what once were favorite bras, to unbury the evidence at last. She sat on her bedroom floor, folder laid out in front of her, and asked herself: what now?

In her line of work, clients were satisfied by three basic outcomes: replacement, recovery, or payment. Nathan was irreplaceable, and I. Y. S. had made sure his life was unrecoverable, so I. Y. S. would have to pay.

The satisfaction that came with the decision began to fade almost immediately, as she realized she had no idea how to go about it. Until her words from a few days’ prior drifted back to her. The insurance world was small and she knew someone who might have an idea where to start. She sent off an email. “Thank you both for the flowers. I could use a really unusual favor.”

* * *

Three days later, Maggie unlocked her front door, and a younger woman dropped from the ceiling like a spider. Startled, Maggie raised the only weapon she had available, her purse, and swung it toward the intruder’s face.

The woman swung effortlessly backwards. “Good. You didn't scream. I can work with that. Neal sent me. I'm the thief you asked for.”

While those words were somewhat comforting under the circumstances, Maggie’s eyes still darted wildly. “Sam!”

“Your son is fine. He’s not home.”

“Sam!” Maggie called again. “What did you do with him?” 

“Nothing. I don't hurt _kids_.” The woman crossed her arms, still managing to look defensive as she dangled there. “He went to a friend’s.” Her face scrunched in concentration. “Jeffrey, Joey, something like that.”

“Josie,” Maggie supplied, sagging with relief. 

“Look, call him, so you know I'm telling the truth. Then we can get down to business.” For a self-proclaimed thief, she looked awfully offended Maggie didn't believe her.

Maggie dialed Josie’s home number. “Hi, Janet. Is Sam over there? No, everything’s fine. Yes, he did have permission. I just wanted to know if he’d be staying for dinner as well. That's right; a client stopped by. I appreciate it. I’ll be by to get him at seven. Thanks, Janet. Bye!”

As Maggie made her brief phone call, the thief dropped to the floor and flipped herself upright in one fluid graceful motion. She retracted the cable from the ceiling and coiled it. “You’re adorable.”

Maggie dropped her phone back into her purse. “Uh, thank you? I'm not so sure about this...”

“Let's start over. People do that right?” Without waiting for an answer, she broke into an awkward grin. “I’m Parker, just Parker. You’re Maggie, right?”

Maggie nodded.

“First job?”

Maggie nodded again, more vigorously this time. “I probably shouldn't be telling you that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, but I don't.”

Parker tipped her head to one side, fixed Maggie with an appraising stare. “Is it important?”

“I want revenge on the people who took Sam’s father away from him,” Maggie said, smiling slightly to herself. It really did feel good to admit.

“That's good.” Parker said after a long pause.

“Good?”

“I mean I don't really care about your thing,” Parker said without a hint of apology. “But Neal promised me money, if I help you. And this sounds like something _you_ care enough about to not screw up, so he'll probably pay out.”

Maggie didn't realize Parker meant this as a question until Parker had stared at her for several seconds, expectant.

"I promise to try my best, Parker,” Maggie assured her.

Parker grinned again. Although the expression was far from reassuring to Maggie, unflinching honesty was exactly what she needed right now. “We'll have work to do first. I'll be back,” Parker said and then ducked out the nearest window before Maggie could say anything else.

Maggie closed her eyes, said what might have amounted to a prayer if she believed in anything more powerful than herself anymore. “What am I getting myself into?” she wondered aloud.

* * *

Sixteen days, one resignation letter, and several ‘outings’ with Parker later, Maggie was no closer to an answer about where this new phase of her life was headed. But on that day, she received a call from an unknown number. She answered it hesitantly, “Hello?”

In contrast the female voice on the other end was warm. “Hello Maggie. Is this a good time?”

“I’m not looking to buy anything,” Maggie said.

That earned her a trilling laugh. “Well, good. You couldn't possibly afford me. However, I was under the impression you were in the market for thieves.”

Maggie only barely resisted the urge to thump her forehead against the next store front she passed. Had someone put out the criminal equivalent of a classified ad? She poured steel into her tone, as she was in no mood to be toyed with. “Who is this?”

“You may call me Sophie,” Sophie said, “and there's no need to be so defensive. I promise I want to help.”

“Why?” Maggie asked.

When Sophie answered, her voice was soft and sad in a way that had become achingly familiar. “Because I loved Nate too.” The line went dead silently in a way that made Maggie miss the dial tone. 

An unequally unsettling text message followed a moment later. It contained a map pin for a nearby cafe along with: 11 am. Tomorrow. You’ll know me when you see me.

Maggie immediately called James. Dispensing with the helloes, she skipped straight to: “Was Nate dating someone called Sophie?”

“Dating? No, I don't think so. He was too disgustingly Catholic for something like that.”

Only James could take affront with martial loyalty. “Thanks,” Maggie said without any actual gratitude behind it.

“He did chase one across Europe. Sophie Devereaux, alongside a few hundred other names, is an art thief and grifter, very good. She came to the funeral,” James added, which finally explained how Sophie thought Maggie would recognize her.

“Thanks, James,” she repeated, though this time it was genuine.

“Anytime, Maggie. Is everything all right?”

“I think it will be,” Maggie said, and she nearly believed it herself.

* * *

When she followed the address the next morning, Maggie did recognize the dark-haired and dark-eyed woman sipping espresso. Maggie had hugged her as part of a line of mourners at the memorial and the memory made Maggie’s chest tight as she dropped into a chair opposite the beautiful grifter.

“Good morning, Maggie. I'm glad you came,” Sophie greeted her breezily. “It is nice to meet you properly. I am dying to know more about the woman who held Nate’s heart.”

“I'm curious about you, too, given I had no idea there was another woman out there in love with _my husband_.”

“He didn't mention me?” Sophie's expression flickered briefly with annoyance, and Maggie didn't bother to suppress the laugh that bubbled up in response.

“Most people don't mention their mistresses to their wives.”

“Oh no, I'm not. We didn't. Nate would have never. I loved him Maggie, but I know I didn't break his top three. You, Sam, and a good puzzle.”

“You really did know him,” Maggie said. Not for what Sophie had said, anyone could have spent five minutes with Nathan and come up with that, but the way she'd said it. That combination of exasperation and fondness, Maggie linked with loving Nathan Ford.

“I never forget a worthy opponent or men who shoot me.” She took another sip from her cup. “He would say I very much deserved it.” 

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” 

Sophie smiled over the rim of her cup. “How much time do you have?”

“A couple of hours.” 

“That should be just enough time,” Sophie said teasingly. “It all started with the first time I thought the roof would be a good escape route. Little did I know, he was nearly as stubborn as I am.”

By the time Maggie broke into laughter for the fourth time that afternoon, she realized that she felt lighter than she'd been in months. Talking to someone who didn't speak of Nate in vague platitudes was beyond refreshing. It also made the usually long afternoon pass in the blink of an eye.

She stood up and gathered her belongings. “I need to get home to Sam.”

“Maggie, one last question.”

Maggie waited.

“Why did you rob a credit union? It’s not even glamorous.” Sophie asked, her disdain clear in her tone.

“ _I_ didn't. I had a lengthy chat with the teller.”

“That's a decent evasion, but that also means it's not an answer,” Sophie fired back.

“For the same reason I let myself be pushed off a building. I've heard it may come in handy. My mentor has unusual methods,” Maggie said.

“Whatever you are getting yourself into, I want to help. I'll be in touch.”

* * *

In contrast to the way she’d met Parker and Sophie, finding Eliot was positively normal. She’d decided to check out a gallery on a drizzly Wednesday afternoon. The content of the art didn't particularly concern her at first; Maggie preferred to make a game out of determining how she might authenticate pieces as belonging to the same artist. Elements like favoring a particular shade of dark yellow as an accent or gravitating toward heavier lines were far from conclusive, but spotting them was practically inevitable.

“What do you think?” someone asked, and Maggie turned to identify the speaker, a young man peering at the same piece from behind a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

“Is it yours?” Maggie checked.

He chuckled. “I'm not an artist.”

“In that case, the brushstrokes are choppy, hesitant. I'm curious if that is a feature of their body of work, or perhaps a reaction to knowing where this might hang.”

“Do you always lead with technical analysis?” He left that tell-tale pause that subtlety asked for her name alongside the actual question.

So she answered both. “Maggie, and it's a job hazard. I am, was,” she corrected, “an authenticator. It takes a minute to switch back to just appreciating it, rather than dissecting it.”

He nodded. “Eliot, and I think you need to try another painting then.” He walked to another canvas. “Well?”

“Oh no, you show me how it's done.”

If you insist.” Eliot turned to give the painting a few moments of quiet contemplation before he said: “The abundance of negative space, combined with the vibrant colors, suggest loneliness.”

“How so?” she pressed.

“Well, it's a beautiful day being spoiled by what's not there.”

“I know the feeling,” Maggie replied.

They moved through the gallery together after that, trading the occasional comment. Maggie came to a halt in front of an image of a building made of a patchwork of bold geometric shapes. “I like this one.”

Eliot smiled at that. “Why?”

“Because, depending on your perspective, it's either coming apart or being rebuilt.”

“An optimism test. Which is it to you then?”

“Rebuilding,” she declared. “Don't you think?”

“Maybe.” He started to move away, but before they reached the next work, he stopped again. “Have you had lunch yet? I was trying to decide where to go when I ducked in here, more than an hour ago.”

“There's a great French place a block east of here. Not a bad walk if the rain's let up.”

“I love French restaurants. Care to join me?”

“As long as it's not a date,” she said upfront. “My husband just died, I'm not there yet.”

Eliot accepted this without even blinking. “Even widows need to eat so I’ve heard. I solemnly swear not to propose over dessert.”

Maggie tried to tell herself, she had no idea why she accepted his invitation on the short walk over, but she did need lunch. She also wanted an adult conversation. Conversation that wasn't about the finer points of thievery, or the man she’d lost, or the ways in which she was falling short when she was proud to just keep going. So they talked about more art, the weather, the food, and eventually Sam.

“He really is the best son anyone could ask for. He’s gone through a lot this year, and it's left me feeling like I need to find more time for him, make some kind of change.”

Eliot gave her one of the most sardonic smiles she’d ever seen. “I know how you feel. There are days I would love to start fresh.”

Maggie was intrigued, "Why? What do you do?"

Eliot was prevented from answering as a young woman two tables back yelled, “That guy stole my tablet!”

The opportunistic technology snatcher rushed past Maggie and Eliot's table a moment later.

Eliot bid Maggie a very polite, “Excuse me.” Then he hopped up from the table and caught up with the other man in a handful of strides.

Eliot grabbed the man by the shirt, spun him to face Eliot and then kicked his feet out from under him, while plucking the tablet away with his free hand.

Eliot held it out to Maggie, who returned it to its rightful owner.

“I'm in retrieval,” Eliot said. “It’s a bit like this, only usually less pathetic.” 

The man at Eliot's feet made a grunt of protest and Eliot kicked him hard in the ribs. Glaring down at him, Eliot said, “If you don't like it, be better. You should run along now.” The man scraped himself off the pavement and sprinted off.

Maggie watched Eliot melt back into date mode, as he addressed his next words to her. “Work also usually pays better.”

“And let me guess, equally unconcerned with legality,” Maggie replied more to herself than to him.

Eliot didn't answer, which was confirmation enough.

“Not again.” Maggie strode forward drew Eliot into a brief hug. “Thank you for lunch, but...”

“This was all a bit much, I get it.” Eliot finished for her. He snatched up a napkin from their table, and scrawled out his phone number. “Just in case, you want it.”

* * *

If Maggie was going to start accepting invitations to lunch or to spearhead a steadily-growing criminal enterprise, she needed to talk to her son about it.

She caught Sam on his way in from school, tugging on his backpack to stop the mad dash to his room. 

“Mom!” Sam squirmed a little. “My friends are going to be online in less than fifteen minutes.”

“I'll be quick, I promise.”

Sam plunked down in a chair. “Okay.”

“Thanks. Since it's just the two of us, I think we can start making some of the decisions around here together.”

Sam’s face lit up. “Does that mean I get to pick my own bedtime?”

“No, but nice try. I was thinking more like I also ask you if I can have friends over, just like you do with me.”

“Are these the kinds of ‘friends’ where I have to wear headphones to sleep at night?” Sam asked.

Maggie grimaced. “Definitely not those kinds of friends.” Maggie was tempted to ask where he’d gotten that from and make sure that poor child slept over at their place from now on, rather than the other way around, but it would wait until tonight at dinner, when Sam wasn't sneaking peeks at the clock every few seconds.

“That's good. And yeah, I like that. It sounds fair.”

“Okay, done. There's another change I've been thinking of making lately. How would you feel about moving?”

“To a different house? Nearby or far away?”

“Nearby,” Maggie confirmed. “You don't have to answer right away, it's a big choice.”

Sam surprised her with a ready answer. “Yeah.”

Maggie waited, watched as her son worked through his thoughts.

“I keep thinking I'm going to find dad in the next room and then he’s not there.” Sam’s eyes grew wet, and she pulled him into a tight hug, burying kisses in his hair. 

“Me too, Sam. Me too.”

* * *

In spite of the many unusual happenings of the past few weeks, somehow Alec Hardison managed to make the most unusual introduction of all. He slipped into the back of her car—her very locked car—in the school pickup line. Maggie immediately grabbed her phone.

"Please don't call the police," he said, holding up both hands.

“I wasn't,” Maggie said, which had been true. “I was dialing my...Eliot,” she finished when she realized she lacked a relationship term that fit. 

“Your Eliot?” he asked.

Even though Maggie knew that the question was rhetorical she felt compelled to defend him or her choices. “He’s frightening when he wants to be.”

“You don't need a cavalry of any kind, ma’am. I'm Hardison, and I heard you might need a tech guy.”

This time Maggie did thump her head against the steering wheel. Her image be damned. “Heard from who?”

Hardison tugged at his collar. “Your son tried to hire me with his allowance. I don't normally go dropping in on people's mommas you understand, but Sam seems like a good kid.”

“Where did you meet my nine-year-old?” Maggie interrupted.

“We met in a PUG and then he was LFG when we were down DPS for a mythic so he came in super clutch and totally carried.”

Maggie stared at him blankly.

“You don't game, do you?” Hardison confirmed after a moment. 

Maggie worried this might turn into some kind of lecture on the dangers of the internet. God knows she'd heard plenty from the school. “Look, I read the parental guides and checked the games out when he first started playing. I made sure he asks if he's going to spend real money on anything. They make him happy, and a little boy who's lost his dad deserves joy where he can get it.”

Hardison looked amused as he said, “That question wasn't a commentary on your mom skills, I just wanted to put what I said into English for you. Sam helped me with a computer game thing, so I owed him one.”

Maggie was trying to sort out which piece of this conversation was most mortifying, when Hardison said, “Sam's worried about you, you know.”

“He is?”

Hardison nodded. “If you're cool, we cool. I know this wasn't the smoothest meet in the world. I just know what it's like to be a little boy who wants to help the woman who gave him everything.” His expression turned wistful as he chased an old memory and Maggie knew then she could believe him.

“Did anyone help you do that?” she asked. “Are you paying it forward?”

Hardison shook his head. “Oh someone might have eventually, but I was worried it might be too late to matter, so I handled it myself.”

“How?”

“Does that matter?”

It used to matter, Maggie thought, back before the world tipped upside down. “No, not particularly. Did it work out for you? For her?”

“Yeah,” Hardison said enthusiastically. “Yeah, it did.”

“And you really think you can help me?”

“That depends, are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Not exactly, but I'm seriously considering getting in some.” Maggie looked up to see Sam coming toward them. "That's Sam.”

“I'll get out of your hair. When you make up your mind, you know how to find me.”

* * *

Meeting Hardison was the last straw that got her to assemble her new...Crew? Colleagues? Partners in crime? Maggie inwardly groaned at the pun of that last option, and settled on thinking of them as her new friends. They were all in an open-plan apartment space with two floors. She had no idea how long revenge might take yet, in spite of starting to form something that resembled a plan. Even if she didn't end up needing it, she knew she’d been right about getting her and Sam out of a place with memories in every corner. 

Sam had approved at least, as she left him downstairs at a table with instructions to do his homework, and a promise of pizza while they unpacked.

As far as her new friends were concerned, Maggie hoped they'd get acquainted, and add their professional assessments of each other to Maggie’s own judgements. In her best vision of today, they would all work to turn her vague notion of somehow turning a loss for I.Y.S. into a stick of dynamite to blow open a hole in the company's greedy cover-ups.

Instead, they took one look at each other and immediately began to argue, their voices building into a cacophonous crescendo.

She only briefly considered shouting over them before settling on one of her favorite mom tools. Sticking two fingers in her mouth, she blew out a short sharp whistle. This sound could hail taxis, catch Sam's attention across a crowded playground, and she was pleased to discover quieted a roomful of bickering thieves. “That's enough,” she said as commandingly as possible. Four pairs of eyes swiveled to shoot daggers at her. “If you really want to help me, I know we’ll need all five of us to accomplish what I have planned, and keep us ahead of trouble.”

Their hard, derisive stares gave way to complaints about how each of them could handle this on their own, even before Maggie had finished speaking. She resisted the urge to sigh. What did she care what a group of lying, cheating, stealing people she’d met a handful of days or weeks ago thought of her anyway? She should just let them all go, she told herself, it was past time she put all these notions of some grand vengeance out of her head.

And she might have, if Sam hadn't burst into the room at top speed. “Mom, are these your new friends that help people?”

Maggie glanced from her son to the others, who all looked amused at such a description, but didn’t seem to be about to openly contradict her.

“That's right, Sammy, Maggie confirmed. Then she took in her son’s distressed expression. “What's got you so upset?”

“It’s Josie! Someone stole her school money. All of the scholarship kids aren't allowed to go next year. They're taking my best friend away!” Sam handed her an email he’d printed. “Look, this just came.”

As Maggie scanned the contents, she kept half an eye on the others silently conferring with one another. “Any objections to helping my son and a bunch of deserving children get an education?”

It was more than a little manipulative to ask them with Sam in the room, but she thought that the present company might forgive her. All things considered.

“I'm in,” Hardison said, smiling at her son. “I'll look into it, Sam.” Sophie nodded as well.

Maggie bent down to Sam’s level. “We have a lot of work to do. Why don't you go pick out a pizza place and I’ll be down in a minute?” 

Sam nodded and thundered back down the stairs. Maggie called belatedly after him. “Wait, you can't tell anyone!”

Sam turned to her from the landing. “Why not?”

Eliot spoke up as Maggie was still trying to decide what lie to craft. “We’re like secret agents. We gotta be able to sneak up on people.”

“Oh, okay. Cool!”

Maggie shook her head. She had just allowed a highly intelligent and confessedly dangerous man to lie to her son. Worse yet, she approved of the lie he'd chosen. It should have been more troubling than it was. 

As soon as Sam was safely out of earshot, Parker piped up. “I signed up for one job, is this going to be it?”

“Assuming Hardison finds something we can fix, yes,” Maggie agreed.

Sophie crossed the room. “Are you sure about this, Maggie?”

“Absolutely. I'm not letting Sam down, even if it means letting go of... other things,” Maggie agreed.

Hardison looked up from his laptop, already typing furiously. “Sam’s school got a new principal?”

“About two years ago, why?”

“Because this guy's neither a prince nor a pal. In fact, he’s seven kinds of hinky.” Hardison turned his laptop around so the others could see what he’d been looking at. “I'll know more once I can really start digging, but he's definitely lining his pockets if this is any indication.” Hardison clicked over to a picture of the man straddling a speedboat that made all of them gag.

“So looks we’re stealing a school budget,” Maggie said.

* * *

For Maggie, the job rushed by in a chaotic blur. She wasn't a big fan of the ear bud, or extra voices in her head, but she adjusted. They all did, really. It took some nudging, but their professional pride collectively kicked in to bring it all together. Seeing and hearing them in action whether physically plucking contradictory financial records from deep file storage, tracing the money through the internet, or posing as a rival creditor, Maggie never would have guessed thievery was its own kind of art form. An art form whose elements she was just beginning to appreciate.

Long before Principal Hinky, as they’d come to nickname the man, was led off in cuffs, Maggie caught herself thinking that she could see herself doing this again. Maybe even more involved the next time. Until she remembered there wasn't supposed to be a next time.

She should have been ecstatic. The job was a resounding success. The school budget had not only been restored, but with a bit of additional funding for endangered subjects. Best of all, one of Sam’s favorite teachers had deservedly gotten to take over as principal, ensuring the school would be steered right for years to come. 

Maggie hadn't counted on it being hard to say goodbye. But they'd all agreed. This was one time only.

* * *

They all seemed so content to walk away that Maggie hadn't wanted to bother any of them. So the last thing she expected was to come home to find Eliot bustling about her kitchen making what smelled like a heavenly piccata. 

She should have been angier he’d broken into her home, even to cook for her, of all things. Instead, she was faintly amused, and very hungry.

So, she crossed to the stove, lifted the lid of the saucepan, and inhaled deeply. “That looks incredible.”

“Good. You and Sam can't live on take out alone.” Even though the response was gruff, Eliot was smiling.

“What's cooking?” Sam asked as he made his way inside.

“It's a lemony pasta,” Maggie answered her son first and then Eliot. “Hey, I cook sometimes. Just not a lot lately.”

“Do you want me to take it home?” Eliot challenged.

Parker hopped up on the island. “No, I want noodles!”

“Parker? Where did you come from?” Maggie wondered aloud.

Parker shrugged. “Not far. I was bored.”

“Mom, you didn't say your friends were coming over,” Sam reminded her.

Hardison poked his head out over the railing leading upstairs. “Calling ahead would've ruined the surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Sam asked, eyes wide with pure glee as he raced up the stairs. Maggie followed after him, equal parts intrigued and suspicious.

Maggie’s eyes immediately land on a bank of TVs that now dominated one wall of the loft floor.

“Sam, I thought you might appreciate an upgrade to your set up.” Hardison did a model wave toward a pair of computer stations. Maggie suspected the high back rolling desk chairs were every bit as luxurious to sit in as they looked. Sam bounced next to her. 

“Is it ready?” Sam asked.

Hardison nodded. “All set up.”

Sam shot forward and dove into a plush chair. 

“Don't get too comfortable,” Maggie warned him. “You only have until Eliot says dinner’s ready.”

“Okay, okay.” Sam said, though he was already pulling on his headphones.

“Thank you. This is an amazing gift.” Despite her growing confusion, she was genuinely touched. “Clearly Sam is over the moon. But it seems a bit much. I'm not sure anyone needs this many TVs.”

Hardison scoffed. “Okay, if you're making me say it, I'll be the first to admit it. I had fun pulling off our job.”

Sophie came up behind Maggie, finally completing the set. “I think we all did.”

“What are you saying?”

“That maybe we could all stand to do this at least one more time,” Sophie said.

“ _Just_ one more time,” Parker contradicted, then immediately relented. “Okay, until I get bored of you.”

Maggie chuckled. “Thanks Parker.” 

“For what?” she asked.

“For wanting to stay.” Maggie explained. “I know it’s an honor. From all of you.”

“Dinner's ready!" Eliot called.

Maggie glanced toward Sam, who had thoroughly ignored her advice. Who could blame him?

“You want me to cut the power?” Hardison offered.

Maggie shook her head. "No, I can get him in a minute. I think we all need to talk first, anyway.”

Hardison, Parker, and Sophie exchanged looks as the four of them headed back to the kitchen. They took their places at Maggie's dining table. She took a moment to look at each of their expectant faces, and gather her thoughts.

“If the food gets cold because no one says anything,” Eliot grumbled and Maggie held up a hand to stop the rest of the threat.

“You're sure you want to work together?” Maggie asked.

They nodded, and Sophie explained, “But only if you're willing to lead.”

“Why?”

Hardison went first. “You'll keep me focused. I need someone to do the focusing.”

Eliot met Maggie's eyes. “You have the best chance of knowing where we can do some good.”

While Sophie simply added, “I like you, Maggie.”

“You'll probably keep me from stabbing anyone!”

“Parker!” Eliot, Hardison, Sophie scolded in unison.

“What?" Parker pouted. “You all had your things.”

“Well, that last one's a bit alarming. As to the rest of it...” Maggie trailed off, hesitating. Was this really what she wanted to commit to? Organizing thieves? Kind, passionate, thoughtful people, but criminals nonetheless.

“It's up to you, Maggie,” Sophie said gently.

“How would this even work?” Maggie asked.

“You pick and plan the jobs. We pull them off,” Hardison said.

“One of us can be here with Sam,” Parker added, surprising Maggie the most. "We won't let anything happen to him.” Having the fierce gleam in her eyes directed at protecting Sam made Maggie's heart swell with joy.

“I take care of my own,” Eliot concurred.

“I would install the best security and surveillance money can buy, and even some it can't,” Hardison promised.

“So, what do you say? Is this your fresh start?” Eliot asked.

Maggie looked around at each of them again. This was it. The thing she'd been searching for from the moment she'd opened James's file: justice and peace. Even if she'd have to create it herself. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but yes, I'm in.” 

A quiet cheer went up around the table.

“Great," Parker deadpanned. “Can we eat now?”

“Yes, we can eat now. Go ahead and get started. I need to grab Sam.”

Maggie headed upstairs, and waited for a pause in the action on the screen. She tapped Sam on the shoulder. 

He spun to face her, peeling off his headphones. “Yeah, Mom?”

“First, dinner's ready. So I need to finish up here and come down.”

“Aw, okay.” He turned back to the computer and closed it down.

“Also, my friends offered me a new job.”

Sam beamed brightly. “You're going to be a secret agent helping people? Awesome!”

“Glad you approve,” Maggie chuckled. “Remember—”

“I still can't tell anyone, I know.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Wait, are your friends going to teach me all of their neat spy tricks too?"

“Hopefully not _all_ of them.” Maggie put on a smile but it came out a little strained as she imagined a montage of the wisdom they might choose to impart. 

Tomorrow there'd be time for establishing incredibly thorough ground rules, she told herself. 

Sam hugged her. “That's okay. I'm happy for us anyway.”

“Yeah, I am too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks foremost to phnelt who convinced me I could write something this far out of my wheelhouse and for the beta polish. To Woggy for answering my dozens of gamer questions. To Tana for reading and rereading draft scenes. You're all amazing!


End file.
